


Thrice Bespelled

by Rawks



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Arthur rescues Merlin, BAMF Merlin, Banishment, Battlefield, Dragonlord Merlin, M/M, MCD but not the MCD you think, Magic, Sad, Simultaneous Attack, it came to me in a dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2019-05-18 07:33:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14848439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rawks/pseuds/Rawks
Summary: When Arthur faces three sorcerers on the battlefield, and his men lay dead or dying, he is left with no other alternative but to call Merlin back from banishment. After three years, after all Arthur's endless doubts, fears, and longing, will he come?





	Thrice Bespelled

**Author's Note:**

> It came to me in a dream and I awoke crying. So, naturally, I had to write it.

There was a thick crack in the air, followed several seconds later by a thunderclap, which rolled through the dark sky over the battlefield. It wasn’t raining, not yet. The sheer amount of thick magic permeating the air held back the storm. The shouts of many men fighting, and many men dying filled the air, pierced only by the clangor of swords and armor competing for the right to prevail.

Prince Arthur was leading the largest army Camelot had ever mustered against the invading forces of Essetir, led by King Cenred, and supported by magic users. Many of his knights and soldiers lay on the ground beside him, dead or drowning in their own blood. Arthur’s arms and legs were tired and heavy, but he kept on fighting after each new wave of soldiers charged their way.

Before long, Cenred would have his Pyrrhic victory, despite Arthur being flanked by his noblest of knights, who were all bloodied, sore, and broken. Cenred’s main target was Arthur, and each move the opposing King made, told Arthur that he had to get out. He had to ride back to the camp where his father was, and hide.

But he would never abandon his men. Never!

When the next wave of soldiers was defeated, and as Lancelot, Percival, Leon, Bedivere, Kay, Elyan, and Gwaine stood around him, panting and covered in mud—or was that blood?—Arthur saw them at last.

Three sorcerers approached them. There was a tall, slender man wearing the robes of a High Priest among the druids. He had a long face, and a short, unkempt beard. Arthur knew him only as Alvarr. Beside him walked two figures he was even less pleased to see. Morgause was wearing an outfit made for battle, her kind of battle. A full plate armor graced her body, while a shining green stone was visible in a bracelet over her wrist. The third one tore Arthur’s heart apart. Morgana had joined her half-sister’s side in battle. Her robes were dark and her eyes were cold and hateful. They had come to tear Camelot to the ground.

If three of them would attack in unison, Arthur didn’t see how anyone would survive. Unless he would call for _him._

Morgause spied Arthur among the fighting men and pointed her finger at him. The three sorcerers looked at him together. And the smile that spread on Morgause’s face made Arthur’s heart sink.

 _When you need me, I will come_.

Those were Merlin’s last words, before Arthur had banished him from Camelot for being a sorcerer. It had been merciful, really. Uther would have Merlin’s head on a pike, if he could ever lay a hand on him. And Arthur had fared reasonably well without Merlin.

Except that he hadn’t. He had been dead inside. Everything that Merlin was and had done for him, every little attention and insult ever thrown in Arthur’s direction, were deeply missed. He had never known that he could long for someone that much. No one had known the depth of Arthur’s depression.

For over three years, Arthur had toyed with the idea of blowing the dragon horn, to see if it would truly summon Merlin back. But Merlin had clearly said that Arthur must be in dire need of him.

Was this it?

Morgana cast a spell at the knights, who went flying back. Several others lifted their shield but it did nothing as Alvarr hurled fireballs at them, and they had to duck out of the way. Overhead, the thunder mercilessly deafened them in another burst right above the battlefield. When the knights lay on the ground, dead or knocked out, Arthur stood alone.

He retreated over the brown grass, flattened by the boots of many soldiers. The scent of smoke and burning cloth, the smell of death and the stink of guts pouring out, made his head swim. He held his sword out, and his shield up, and watched as the three sorcerers crossed the distance towards him. A strange relief tingled at the back of his mind.

This was either where he would die, or where he would call upon Merlin.

He didn’t even know what would happen.

What would Morgana think? How would Morgause respond? Could Merlin even defeat them?

What would Uther say?

The broken turmoil within Arthur’s gut coiled tightly, and made his sword heavy in his hand. His grip faltered.

“Are you ready to give up?” Morgause called out to him.

He couldn’t let his men die! If he lived and returned to camp by himself, how could he ever face another day? Without Merlin, without the knights, without any honor left. Without Camelot.

With his free hand, he reached under his tabard and yanked the chain free that held the dragon horn around his neck. He threw his shield down as well, took in a lung-full of air and blew into the horn.

A low hoot sounded over the battlefield that had many fighters pause in their duels. Some took advantage and slaughtered their opponents instantly at their momentary distraction.

“Sounding retreat, little brother?” Morgana’s voice toyed. “I expected more.”

“You will die, Pendragon,” Alvarr spat.

Arthur lowered the horn and looked at the sorcerers, as they navigated past dead bodies and stood but the length of a jousting field apart from him. All other voices and shouts were eternally distant to Arthur. His home felt far away and impossible to reach. All his hopes had faded, and he was a broken man.

Then the ground rumbled and shook. Arthur braced himself, and in front of him Alvarr nearly stumbled. A slow, thick flapping sound advanced on them and Arthur looked up to the sky to watch a figure descend.

He knew the shouts of his men as they yelled retreat. He saw the Pendragon banners around him fall, as the men carrying them ran for their lives. Cenred’s soldiers were no better, fleeing or pissing themselves where they stood.

A great dragon flew over the battlefield, reflecting the flames of the battlefield back at them against dark golden scales. Its glowing eyes pierced through the darkening evening and with a large swoop, and blinding burst of fire, what remained of Cenred’s infantries and cavalries were decimated. A growling roar and a clasp of talons had King Cenred off his horse, and sliced into pieces.

Arthur sank to his knees and picked up his wooden shield again. He wiped the sweat off his forehead and sought his sword. It was around here somewhere. He was certain of it.

A sharp light fell onto a sword that lay nearby. It was beautiful, decorated with gold. It wasn’t his sword, but it called out to him. Arthur picked it up and read ‘Pick me up’. He turned it over and the other side read ‘Cast me away’. As he got to his feet, the dragon landed some way in the distance.

The battlefield was deserted now apart from Arthur, the dragon, and the three sorcerers. And one more. From the back of the dragon’s neck a cloaked figure jumped down. Arthur held his breath.

Merlin had come.

He wasn’t certain. The man who walked up to them wore a hooded cloak made of red and purple fabric, lined with gold. And over his face was a black mask.

“You’re a dragonlord!” exclaimed Alvarr.

“Yes,” the warlock said as he came to stand between the sorcerers and Arthur, facing Morgause and her two allies. The dragon rumbled in response and flew up and away.

“Why do you side with him? You should join us!” Morgause said.

“Never!”

Arthur’s breath caught in his throat. This was Merlin, it had to be. But how was that possible?

Morgana regarded Arthur in a hateful sneer. “He doesn’t recognize your magic, he never could. He is the son of Uther, and would banish you in a heartbeat.”

“I can live with that.”

Morgause had had enough and held out her hands. Her eyes glowed gold and soon a bright blue lance was flung at the warlock who had come to defend Arthur. With a flick of his hand, the spell was deflected.

“Look out! From above!” Arthur shouted.

A spell that summoned a flock of crows with sharp beaks raced down over the warlock’s head, but he ducked and rolled, and the black creatures dissolved into thin air.

Arthur instantly felt his arms and wrists being yanked to the ground, and he collapsed, struggling to keep his composure. He was trapped by magic.

“Turn back now, before it’s too late,” the warlock warned them.

There was no doubt about it, now. Arthur recognized his voice. Besides, only Merlin would fight by not fighting at all. His heart beat unfairly hard against his chest, thudding painfully against his ribs. And it made Arthur’s energy return to him. He lifted his shield properly into his left arm, and held up his sword, aiming to break through the spell. But it did not budge.

Morgause snapped at the stranger. “You would fight your own kind to protect a king who has killed us all? Your dragon knew we are of the Old Religion. _He_ would not harm us!”

The warlock taunted, “You would use your magic for murder and torture, when you could do good. I don’t see how my choice is any worse. Besides, I’m not doing it for any King.”

Morgause cackled. “What is he to you then?” She pushed a burst of energy his way, aimed  straight for his head. It was a blow intended to kill.

The warlock narrowly dodged, showing a momentary lapse. His mask fell off.

“ _You_?” Morgana balked. “ _You’re_ a sorcerer?”

“I am more than that. I am a dragonlord and a warlock,” Merlin said, pulling down his hood. Alvarr had the decency to look afraid, but Morgause and Morgana simply scowled.

Arthur stared at his back. He looked at the wind playing with Merlin’s thick black hair, and he watched the brightly colored cloak billow in the wind. Red, gold, and purple. He longed to see Merlin’s expression. The empty gap that had occupied his chest ached for it, like nothing he had ever known.

Lightning lit up the sky, and soon another deafening crack burst through the thick air.

Alvarr tried to use the distraction of the burst to cast something, but Merlin interrupted him by making him lose his footing.

Arthur understood. Alvarr was the weakest of them and Merlin knew it.

Morgause stepped forward and cocked her head. Then she offered a brilliant smile. “You mustn’t stand in our way, we are aiming to make the land available for Magic users again. You have already been recognized! You could never survive like this.”

“I can live with it. You underestimate me, much like everyone always has,” Merlin said.

The words rang cruelly through Arthur’s head, and he nearly felt sick at the deep truth of it. “Merlin,” he said at last, speaking his name aloud for the first time in three years. He couldn’t recall a day that he had not thought about him. And here he was, revealed for all the world to see. This was his battlefield.

Merlin shot a worried glance over his shoulder, but could not hold his gaze. His hands balled into fists.

Alvarr had scrambled to his feet and took out a sword. “You can live with the persecution of your kind?!” He was outraged. The white around his eyes stark and he frothed around the mouth.

“No, I can live with the belief that Arthur will make a difference. If you only hold out until he becomes king—”

Morgause pointed at Merlin and shouted, “Arthur will NEVER become king! And you, you’ve revealed yourself to us, Merlin. What do you think would happen if King Uther found out?!”

“Then I will die.” Merlin said calmly. “And Arthur will live.”

“It’s been you… protecting him all this time, breaking enchantments and spells at Camelot,” Morgana concluded.

Merlin remained silent this time.

Arthur didn’t understand what Morgana was saying. The air was too thick to speak, too thick to move. He was locked into place, and his mouth felt dry like ash. Enchantments and spells? There had been nothing that had stood out in ages. Camelot had been quiet. For a long time Arthur had felt safe. Safe, alone, bored out of his skull, and utterly desperate.

Morgause turned to Morgana and Alvarr, and pulled them close to discuss something.

“Merlin,” Arthur called out again.

“Shh,” Merlin silenced him. Arthur saw that he was focusing on trying to see what the three of them would come up with. As little as Arthur understood about magic, he assumed that Merlin would need to see and hear what was happening in order to intervene.

“Will you cease your attack?” Merlin asked. “This is your last chance.”

Morgana glared at Merlin. It was a painful look that spoke volumes of betrayal. “Never,” she breathed at him, and her eyes shone gold.

Morgause joined at the same time. “This will be your undoing, boy!”

Alvarr roared as he began to cast his spell.

Merlin widened his stance and held out a hand. “Why don’t you believe me? If you stop fighting me you could wait it out, wait for a new era!”

 _A new era_ , Arthur wondered. But how? It would go against everything Camelot and the law had stood for.

Morgause mirrored his miserable thoughts, shouting, “Arthur is Uther Pendragon’s son, he cannot be forgiven for his father’s deeds. You know how much he hates magic users, he would tell his father and Uther would hang you.”

 _I wouldn’t_ , Arthur wanted to say. He couldn’t make his voice work through the layers of magic in the air.

“I don’t want to kill you…!” Merlin begged.

“And you won’t. You stand before a choice now, Merlin.”

The three of them began to cast. Morgause had summoned three ghastly creatures with sharp teeth and red, bulging eyes, which rushed forward across the rubble towards where Arthur was lying. Morgana created a large, black bird with sharp claws, and Alvarr was casting a bolt of magic, looking straight into Merlin’s eyes.

“You can choose to save yourself, or Arthur. Or you can stop the message reaching Uther’s camp, informing them of your true nature! And Arthur’s full knowledge of it!” Morgause said.

As the light of the three spells became dazzling, Arthur saw that tears had welled up in the corners of Merlin’s eyes.

Then suddenly, the bolt was shot and aimed straight for Merlin’s head. Even if he survived it, he could not save Arthur, nor stop the bird. If he stopped the bird, he and Arthur would die instantly, or with some luck be mortally wounded. The sorcerers would make quick work of them after that.

Arthur’s brain felt fuzzy. If he concentrated he could hold off the beasts for a while. He ripped himself free of his bonds and began to charge forward, roaring.

“NO!” Merlin shouted and Arthur instantly paused, sword in hand. Merlin stood firm and lifted his hands. His eyes flared bright gold. Out of his mouth came the words of spells, strangely jumbled together, sounding like utter gibberish. He sounded mad.

Morgana and Alvarr’s eyes widened at what they saw, while Morgause was still busy sending the creatures to Arthur.

Merlin kneeled and his cape billowed, as his arm reached behind him, pointing towards Arthur. A glow erupted from his fingers, resulting in a glowing yellow dome appearing around Arthur, exactly covering the full shape of his body. Simultaneously, a storm erupted around Merlin. The black bird was flying higher now, and had nearly passed Merlin and Arthur on the battlefield when it happened.

An explosion larger than the impact of a trebuchet. A whirl of energy, rocks, blood, and dirt from around them, filled with swirls of various colors of magic. Arthur witnessed it in horror, holding a hand over his face, despite the safety of the capsule enclosing him. For a sickening moment, the world around him had turned gray and black.

When the dust settled, Merlin’s roar was heard in the distance, while his magic had scoured the earth nearly a mile in diameter. Merlin’s voice cast a deep and terrible rumble of power, and it blew the thick, suffocating magic right out of the air. The attacking beasts were turned to mush, and a sorry pile of feathers drifting down indicated that the crow had not escaped. The bolt had fully disintegrated against the sheer power of Merlin’s attack.

Merlin stood in the center, entirely unharmed though his black hair stood up in all directions.

It began to rain.

The three sorcerers lay on the ground, several yards farther back from where they had previously stood. Alvarr was dead, Morgause coughed and Morgana moaned in pain. Merlin walked up to them slowly, menacingly. It wasn’t something Arthur had ever seen Merlin do. As the dome fizzled, he was too stunned to move.

“You… you cast two spells at the same time,” Morgause gasped in horror. “How did you do that?”

“Three spells. I told you not to underestimate me,” Merlin said emotionally. “I didn’t want to…” At last Merlin looked over his shoulder to Arthur, to see if he was okay. No, that was folly. Merin already knew that he was okay. He looked ashamed, conflicted. Torn. He turned away again as if the very image of Arthur tortured him to his core.

Morgana gained a momentary breath and it erupted in a wicked laughter. She threw her head back and her eyes raged as she cooed, “You’re in love with him.”

Merlin had stopped dead in his tracks, mortified at her conclusion.

Morgause’s eyes widened as she understood the one outcome that she had not calculated for. She tried to gather herself, slipping in the muddy grass.

Morgana’s cruel features set in place once more. “You should not have protected him. He will never return your love!”

“I can live with that too, actually.” His voice was light, spoken in full surrender.

Morgause was the first to get to her feet, rearranging her plate armor. “And you will never see him again!” She lifted a hand, fingers stretched. Nothing came out.

Merlin stood unfazed. The shredded remains of his cape blowing gently in the wind, his hands calmly by his side.

“What did you do?” Morgause said, aghast.

“I’ve taken your magic away,” Merlin answered, his voice quivering and his cheeks wet with both rain and tears.

Morgause snarled at Merlin and pulled her sword out of the scabbard. “That does not leave me defenseless!” She lunged for Merlin and swung at him. The first blow, Merlin dodged, but Morgause was quick and she hooked a foot around Merlin’s ankle, pulling him off balance. When she aimed the sword to strike through his chest, her blade met solid steel.

“You will not harm him!” Arthur shouted, and he pushed his large wooden shield into her face, bloodying her nose and coming to stand between them. “You bested me once, but that was not you, that was your power. Face me now!” His voice was deep, hoarse, and angry. He glared at her through the rain and poised his sword. It felt light and powerful in his hand, and he was confident at last.

“Arthur, no,” Merlin begged behind him. His voice was unbelievably soft, and Arthur wondered if he had actually heard it. But he had no time to respond as Morgause used any flaw in Arthur’s battle stance to gain her advantage, and came charging at him.  

She was quick and strong, and Arthur was exhausted, but she could not best him. He anticipated her moves, and saw through her strategy before the fourth time their blades collided. He was able to take note of the land around them and withhold her blows at the same time. This was his world. His shield blocked her efficiently and he meticulously drove her back.

For the first time in over a year, Arthur felt alive. He was filled with something he didn’t know he still had in him. Passion. A battle cry escaped his throat, and he lunged forward. Morgause’s eyes went wide and she stumbled over Alvarr’s body, and fell to the ground.

“You think you’ve won?” she sneered. She lifted her other hand, where the magical bracelet glowed green. Morgause used the words to form one last spell belonging to the relic, and a burst of energy was aimed straight at him.

In an instant, Arthur couldn’t see anything. Then he fell back, a heavy form landing on top of him. He rolled over to see Merlin, who had jumped to catch the last of Morgause’s magic for him. Merlin, who had known Arthur like no other. Merlin, who had left Arthur in a pitiful state of uselessness. Merlin, who now lay dying.

“No!” he yelled out. But the light was fading from Merlin’s eyes fast. Blood pooled on his shirt, and his cape was fully gone now.

Merlin lifted slender fingers and reached up to touch Arthur’s cheek. He smiled only briefly. “You called me. I told you I would come.” The his hand dropped to his side and his eyes rolled back, and Arthur saw white in anger.

He got up, God only knew with what remaining strength, and blew hot air out of his nose. His jaw was set and his muscles burned. Morgause still lay on her back, looking on wildly at what happened, her ferocity unyielding. And Arthur stormed to her, with his sword held high. Within two strokes, he had disarmed her, the third stroke went straight through her armor, right under her breastplate, the next sliced part-way through her leg as she attempted to kick him away.

Blood escaped Morgause’s mouth as she gurgled for air. Arthur’s sword did not stop. His rage was not done. The sword swung again and beheaded Morgause in one clean cut.

Morgana’s cry of grief was heard over the battlefield.

Arthur spun towards her, but was stopped by the smallest tug on his armor. He turned to look at Merlin, who pulled himself slowly into a sitting position. The tug had been magical.

“Don’t… kill her,” he begged, his blue eyes pleading. “Please.”

He threw one more glance at Morgana, as she crawled over the blooded grass towards her sister, to cradle her headless body. Slowly, he turned his back to her and knelt beside Merlin, placing the sword beside him on the ground.

“You’ve alive?”

Merlin winced and nodded, there was definitely a large pool of blood on his chest, but he seemed to be getting through it. “I’ll live, that’s different.” A ghost of a smile hung nervously on the corner of his lips.

Arthur had to clear his throat, and told him, “You’ve saved Camelot.”

Merlin shook his head and looked Arthur straight in the eyes. “I didn’t do it for Camelot.”

Arthur swallowed and looked at him. Really looked at the Merlin he had never seen before. At the Merlin he knew so well. His mind raced. But if he thought about it any longer, he knew he would never have the chance. So, he cupped Merlin’s face and kissed him, ignoring the soft sound of feigned protest, and the fingers that curled around his arm.

Then Merlin was kissing him back, and Arthur had never felt so alive. His body hurt from the sheer energy that all his organs suffered at that moment. His bottom lip trembled uncontrollably, and he kissed him again, more deeply this time, needy, and urgent. The sounds of utter desperation Merlin made mirrored his own, and when Merlin’s hands folded themselves around Arthur’s shoulders, he knew it. He could not live without Merlin for another day.

In the distance they heard horses approach. Arthur pulled back and gazed into Merlin’s eyes, whispering, “You know not how I have loved you.”

Merlin’s hands pulled back from his shoulders, but clung tightly on the tabard of Camelot. “I would do anything for you.”

Something inside him broke, and he burst out into tears, cradling Merlin’s head against him even as the riders appeared. “Stay by my side.”

A sob racked through Merlin at the impossibility of that request. All of Camelot would know his deeds, and yet the law was firm.

“Arthur!” a voice called out.

Arthur whispered an apology and let Merlin go, looking up to see the image of his father.

As Uther rode closer, he took a breath to speak, and then promptly rode past them. “Morgana!”

The grieving witch still clung to the remains of her half-sister and didn’t want to be torn away from it. Uther descended his horse and strode over to her. “Oh, my dearest—”

Without any warning, Morgana’s scream pierced the air and a hidden dagger was thrust deep into Uther’s abdomen. “Die, Uther Pendragon!” she shouted.

“Morgana, no!” Merlin shouted.

Arthur watched, stunned. Then at once he, and the men around him rushed to his father’s side.

Morgana cackled as the guards put her in chains. “It was poisoned. It won’t help to stop the bleeding. He is already dead!”

“Father!” Arthur shouted. But Uther had died. His last breath escaping pitifully into the night air on the battlefield he had not attended. Arthur let out a mournful cry as the other soldiers surrounded them and hesitantly declared Camelot victorious.

It took five knights several minutes to convince and eventually pry Arthur away from his father’s corpse. He was brought to a Percival and Gwaine who had come round with their limbs intact and souls shattered for the loss of their friends and their king. They were being bandaged and fed bread and wine. Beside them stood Merlin, looking forlorn and ready to bolt.

Arthur strode up to him and grabbed his arm. He hadn’t realized until that moment how afraid he had been that Merlin would leave, disappear, or otherwise. “I want the world to know what you have done,” he said.

Merlin shook his head miserably, his eyes pleading and his bottom lip trembling.

“This new era you spoke of,” he said and stood closer. His forehead nearly touched Merlin’s. If anyone saw, they didn’t say anything. “I promise you. All of it—”

“Arthur,” Merlin tried to interrupt him, shaking his head.

“Will be for you.”


End file.
